His Sacrifice
by The Just King's Shadowhunter
Summary: Oreius risks his life for the Just King's in an unexpected battle. Will the good General die as so many other have, in defense of his king, or will he survive his wounds? Three-shot.
1. Part One: Brave

**His Sacrifice**

**Part One: Brave**

** ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.

_Prologue_

"_My kings," said the Healer, her gaze steady as she looked at us, "General Oreius will be lucky if he makes it through the night. I cannot say anything about his chances if he does with certainty." _

"_It was a brave but foolish thing he did," Edmund muttered, white-faced. "We will lose him because of it." _

"_He saved you though…" Lucy whispered, and wrapped her arms tightly around Edmund's middle, burying her face in his chest as she began to cry. She didn't want to lose Oreius. He was her friend._

**✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ**

It did start out innocent enough.

The Kings and Queens, taking along their guards, as well as the overly protective, overly cautious Oreius, had gone out into the forest for the day, for a ride and some time to themselves.

The four of them had stopped for a while, for some dinner, and were talking softly amongst themselves, laughing at the expense of poor Edmund. Oreius paced around the edges of the clearing, his hand never leaving his sword.

Unfortunately, the caution was necessary. Only a few moments had passed before the first wave of enemies rushed from the woods.

Lucy screamed, leaping to her feet, spilling her drink all over her dress, although this did not seem to bother her.

Peter, Edmund, and their guards were on their feet and engaged in battle instantly.

The kings, however, were vastly outnumbered.

Lucy, young as she was, was no fool, and she could clearly see what the outcome of this struggle would be.

As it was, a Minotaur was rushing at Edmund's unprotected back as he fought, evidently unaware.

She screamed, "Edmund, _look out_ for Aslan's sake!"

He tried to turn to see what she was talking about, but couldn't divert his attention from his current opponent as the Minotaur bore down.

Just as she thought he was lost, there was a flash of hooves and a fierce war cry. The Minotaur stumbled to the side in surprise when Oreius crashed into him, and released an angry roar.

The Minotaur swung his war hammer at Oreius's head.

Lucy heard the resulting _thwack _and a smashing sound over the sound of the battle, and then everything went dark as she fell to the ground in a dead faint.

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The battle raged on. Lucy's faint, contrary to what some might believe, did nothing to stop it.

Just then, the reinforcements arrived, for Susan had fled on her horse, Belle, to fetch help. She feared they would be too late upon their arrival, but nonetheless, had sent them.

And they arrived just in time to save the Narnians from all being killed. A pair of Tigers managed to lure the Minotaur away from Oreius's limp form, taunting the beast mercilessly as they dodged all his clumsy blows with ease.

Within minutes, the fight was over. The enemy lay dead around them.

Edmund doubled over, hands on his knees, panting. He was sweating profusely. "What…was…that?" he panted. "Who—who were they? I didn't recognize any of them."

"I would say Fell Beasts, King Edmund," said Philip. "After all, there was a Minotaur. Calormen hates Narnian creatures, and I would say we have a fairly good relationship at the moment with others."

Suddenly remembering Oreius, the young king straightened. "Oh…General Oreius."

Peter ran over to the fallen centaur. "Oreius!"

There was no movement other than the faint rise and fall of his chest—no sound other than his raspy, shallow breathing.

The young king knelt beside him to assess his injuries.

Right away, he knew that his back right leg was broken. It was at a terrifying angle and the minute he saw white sticking out, he looked away.

Oreius's stomach had been brutally torn into by the Minotaur. Nausea threatened, but he swallowed it back.

But when he saw the head wound, he _did_ throw up.

The back of Oreius's head had been bashed open with the club, and he could see skull—cracked open. He swore he could see bits of brain matter.

"Get him… get him back to the castle. Or as close as you can," Peter said as his stomach rolled, dizzying him. "Please try not to jostle him too much. I want him in as little pain as he can be."

"How bad is it, Pete?" Edmund muttered, coming over to him with Philip.

"It's…. bad."

"Will he survive it?" asked Edmund, dark eyes wide.

"Honestly, I don't know. We'll just have to see what the healers say about it."

But Peter's eyes were bleak, and held little hope.

**✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ ✩ ✮ ✯ ƸӜƷ**

**Stay tuned for part 2. **


	2. Part 2: Wait

**Part 2**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the Chronicles of Narnia, but well, I don't. **

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Three of the young monarchs were outside the door to Oreius's rooms, waiting to know the fate of their General. Susan had retired to her room some time earlier, claiming to be tired.

Lucy leaned her head back against the wall.

"I do hope he's alright," she said softly.

"We all do, Lu," Peter responded, though he had his doubts. He'd seen the full extent of Oreius's injury and he honestly wasn't sure about his odds for survival.

Minutes ticked by.

Finally, the door to Oreius's rooms was opened by a centaur healer. She looked steadily at the young kings and queen.

"My Kings," she said, and then, "my Queen."

"How is Oreius?" Lucy whispered, pressing her handkerchief to her mouth.

"My kings and queen," said the Healer, her gaze steady as she looked at us, "General Oreius will be lucky if he makes it through the night. I cannot say anything about his chances if he does with certainty."

"It was a brave but foolish thing he did," Edmund muttered, white-faced. "We will lose him because of it."

"He saved you though…" Lucy whispered, and wrapped her arms tightly around Edmund's middle, burying her face in his chest as she began to cry. She didn't want to lose Oreius. He was her friend.

Expression blank, the Healer withdrew, back into Oreius's dark rooms. "All that is left to do is wait," she said, voice as expressionless as her face, "He is in Aslan's paws now. Let us hope the Lion will see fit to restore him to good health." And the door closed.

They waited.

Finally, in the early hours of morning, the door opened once more.

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**Short one **_**and**_** a cliffhanger. Heh heh. **


	3. Part 3: Alive

**Part 3**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the Chronicles of Narnia, but well, I don't. **

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Oreius struggled to open his eyes.

They opened, but nothing became clearer.

Everything was mothy, felted with dusty static. Ragged, feathery. Everything was in shades of brown.

He opened his mouth and tried to ask for King Edmund. Had he saved him?

"Mmmmf. Edhhguh."

"Just a moment," a female voice murmured softly, "I'll get you feeling better, General Oreius. I'd like for you to go back to sleep."

Why could he see nothing but shades of brown? The world was suffocating, filled with nothing.

Something sharp pricked the skin of his arm. He recognized the feeling as pain, welcoming it as it sharpened his focus somewhat.

The needle withdrew.

Everything washed away in a soft wave of black.

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Oreius felt like he was gone.

Dissolved, evaporated.

These thoughts passed through his mind, and he forgot them as soon as they were through.

Then he could open his eyes again, and this time he could see, see the world with its piercing colors and the too-bright sunlight filtering through the window. He wished he could go back to only seeing the dull brown. Colors hurt.

He became dimly aware of someone speaking.

"…At last! I must say, I am relieved to see you awake, Oreius!" A small hand closed over his, squeezed it. "Oh, Oreius, we've all been so frightened for you! Can you hear me?"

His tongue felt like sludge. He tried to answer. He prodded himself to remember the way to speak.

He wanted to ask for King Edmund again. _For Aslan's sake, is the Just King all right?_

"Mrumph," he said, and then, "Edwmphnd."

"Edmund?" Queen Lucy said, pleased at a word she could recognize. "Oh, he's quite all right, don't worry! Would you like him to come in?"

Oreius tried again, this time to tell her this was right.

He garbled a few more words, and eventually managed to push a few words through.

"King." More gibberish. "Edmund". More gibberish. "Please." And still more gibberish. "In."

"I will bring him in here, Oreius," said Lucy softly, and squeezed his hand again. "He will be so pleased to see you. I hope you're alert enough to speak with him."

She left.

Minutes passed, and Oreius began to think perhaps the Just King would not come after all, when at last he arrived, bringing High King Peter as well.

"King," Oreius managed, and then tried to speak, to ask if King Edmund was all right, if he was injured, but all that came out was gibberish, of course. The young king recoiled, to Oreius's dismay.

He grew louder, asking him something most urgently.

King Peter just shook his head in small motions, as if not wanting Oreius to know that neither he nor his brother understood a word he was saying.

"Oh," King Edmund murmured at last, "I suppose you're trying to ask something about me. My guess would be you want to know that I'm unhurt, knowing you." He snorted softly, shaking his head. "Is that right?"

It was, and Oreius nodded and fell quiet now, awaiting the answer to his question.

"Yes, I'm fine. You saved me. Don't worry." King Edmund sighed. "Peace, Oreius."

This answer soothed his worries greatly and he relaxed somewhat. He smiled at his kings to thank them both for their patient attention and it was only when they did not smile back that he realized he was chattering away in a burble of watery sounds. The looks on their faces were ones of panic or grief.

He forced his mouth shut, clenching his jaw.

Now that he knew King Edmund was quite alright, he'd like to know what had become of the creatures they'd been fighting, but he feared to speak.

King Peter went away, and King Edmund sat at his side. His eyes grew heavy and he slept.

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Oreius woke again. He found himself alone.

Immediately, he struggled to stand. He never had been able to bear lying down for extended periods of time. But to his outrage, his back leg buckled beneath him, bring him crashing to the ground roughly.

Searing pain shot through the leg, and the back of his head as he bashed it against the wall. "Agh!" he cried. Immediately, he heard footsteps rushing toward him.

"Why, Oreius!" cried Queen Susan as she came through the doorway. "What in Aslan's name are you doing? You are not well!"

Rather than bother with trying to answer, he kept his mouth firmly shut. He was dreadfully tired of his inability to speak, and did not wish to hear it.

"Lie down, at once," she commanded. He did so, even allowing her to clasp his arm and ease him back onto the blankets covering the floor.

Oreius sighed.

"Please don't get up again," she said quietly, "It would upset Edmund terribly to know you were hurting yourself." And she went from the room.

He'd just have to heal soon, then. He would not stand for this _resting._


End file.
